Andy Williams

It's the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's the most wonderful time of the year. 

I can assure you that my kids got sick of this song decades ago.  Because I played it constantly, not just during the Christmas season, but all the time.  I spent many years adoring Andy Williams.

 He died today at age 84.  

He's left me so many happy memories.  He's the only reason I ever seriously considered going to Branson, Missouri. 

I'm sure my kids remember Saturday nights when we - instead of the nightly ritual of dinner at the dinner table with every one of us present -  all sat in the living room at individual TV trays and watched the Andy Williams Show.  We ate steak, baked potatoes and salad.  Our first experience in Dinner/Theater.

There we were introduced to The Osmond Brothers as a "youthful barbershop harmony group from Utah."  The littlest one was an adorable kid named Donny.

At the same time there was a very similar family group, called "The Jackson Five," making the rounds of TV shows. With an adorable little kid named Michael.  

Everybody loved Andy's Christmas show featuring his whole family, all in crazy Christmas sweaters,  including his brothers with whom, as a kid, he began singing in the Presbyterian Church.

It was truly a different time and place.

And now Andy Williams is gone.  The end of an era.

Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossin' you in style some day.
O dream maker, you heat breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way.

Good bye Andy.

***

Clint Eastwood

Like you, I've been a little angry at Clint for that stunt he pulled at the Republican National Convention.  It's just that, at age 82, we don't know how many public appearances he has left in him and I'd hate to see him go out on that one.

But, yesterday, we saw him in his new movie.  I'm not mad at him anymore.  "Trouble With the Curve," a sentimental ode to Clint and other old geezers, masquerading as a baseball movie, is good.  No, I don't like baseball.  No, it doesn't matter.  No, I didn't learn anything.  No, it doesn't matter.

But Clint does redeem himself by certainly showing his age and what time eventually does to all of us but also showing us what else comes with age.  Wisdom, regret...and the ability to change.

Do you remember, a couple of years ago, the wildly popular movie "Moneyball?"  It starred Brad Pitt and the entire premise was that the baseball scouting world would, from hence forth, be done by an intricate computer program instead of grumpy old guys traveling around the countryside, eyeballing potential big leaguers.  This movie, "Trouble With the Curve," is about how computers don't work (no soul) and the only way to identify the next Mickey Mantle is by grumpy old guys traveling around the countryside.  Even if they're going blind - as Eastwood is in this movie.

The film also stars Amy Adams and Justine Timberlake.  A lot of folks my age get Justine Timberlake and Justine Bieber confused.

Here's the thing, one of them is a mega/multi talented, mature, superstar who is smart about choosing just the right venue to show us his versatility in just the right amount so we leave wanting more.

The other one is Justin Bieber.

Go see "Trouble With the Curve."  You'll like it.  No bombs exploding, no gun shots, no collisions....well just a little one.   But it's appropriate.


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Not a Job, But a Passion

Whatever form it takes, there is in happiness the kind of constant which enjoyment cannot bring us: happiness does not lie in filling time with delight; it is what makes my one life worthwhile.
                       - Joan Chittister in Following the Path

Years ago, when I was doing consulting work with folks who were unhappy with their jobs, I'd sometimes tell the story of the tollbooth taker who loved his work.  He loved getting to interact with people all day long.  He liked to brag that he had an office with windows on three sides.

Of course, some folks rolled their eyes.  How could anybody have a passion for that kind of work?

And now, columnist Greg Dawson, in this morning's paper, wrote a feel-good article about a woman named Faye who, for 19 years, has been a tollbooth taker on our East West Expressway here in Central Florida.  And she loves it.

She's aware that some folks call tollbooths "vertical coffins" but she laughs that it's bigger than her first apartment.  Faye's kind of a local celebrity.  When she's out and about people recognize her.  Because hundreds of folks see her, if only for a few seconds, every day.

It's not perfect.  Occasionally people are mean, college kids don't have any money, and when it's raining and folks don't turn off their windshield wipers, she gets soaked.

But seeing our work as a calling makes a huge difference in how it's perceived by us and those around us.

Here are a couple more quotes from Joan Chittister:

It is the desire to make life easier for others that keeps a woman who trains service dogs washing down kennels and sweeping up dog food every day of her life. 

It's not about a job; it's about a passion.


***

Honey, Take Me For a Spin

I got it one piece at a time,
and It didn't cost me a dime
You'll know its me when I come through your town.
I'm gonna ride around in style
I'm gonna drive everybody wild,
'Cause I'll have the only one there is around.
       - Johnny Cash

On Wednesday,  we were having lunch with a new friend in the incredible atrium of the Dali Museum, with its facade consisting of 1,062 pieces of individually tempered glass.

Our friend told us she'd once been a claims adjuster and that started us talking about how much it cost these days to have a car repaired.  If you've had to do it recently, you know it's breathtaking.

Later Dave told us about the time, in 1954, when he was driving, with five Army buddies, his 1953 Ford, 4 Door Custom Hardtop, back to Fort Carson.  On a wet highway in Western Kansas the car began to jackknife.  It flipped three times, end for end, down an embankment, over a barbed wire fence and landed right side up.

This was before seat belts, but miraculously, and because they were packed in like sardines, no one was hurt.

The car, on the other hand, was a mess.  Today, I'm sure it would have been declared a total loss.  But Dave's Uncle, who was a claims adjuster, knew a guy who liked to fix cars.  This guy lived in the country, in a house surrounded by junkers.   After accessing the damage on Dave's car, he began the process of replacing just about everything in and on it.  He welded on an entire new top, replaced the grill, hood and fenders, etc.  When he finished the fix he repainted the car.  Two toned.  Cream and dark green.

Before long, Dave was again driving his 1953 Ford 4 Door, Custom Hard Top.  Sort of.

The cost for all this was $500.

When Dave finished his story on Wednesday, our friend said, "That sounds like the Johnny Cash Song."


***

Hello Dali

There's a group in our church called Act II.  It's designed for folks 50 and older.  We do fun, cultural things, as well as service projects and spiritual things, but then I consider viewing works of art a spiritual experience.

Yesterday we went to the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida.  (Not to be confused with the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia that we visited in June.)

Salvador Dali was a Spanish surrealist painter.  Some folks think he was crazy.  Some folks think you have to know a lot about art to appreciate his work.

Not true on either count.  Almost all of his works tell an intricate, interesting story.  With a little help, even little kids love his art.

Here is what we expect of Dali. "Melting Clocks."  They had some melting clocks in the gift shop but I couldn't think of anybody who would love getting one.

This is Dali's "Portrait of Lincoln."  Don't see Lincoln?  Only see a nude, puzzle pieces and  a bunch of other stuff?

Try this other size.  Do you see him now?  Squint your eyes.

I like this "Hallucinogenic Toreador."  He's in there, amongst so much more!  His eye is one of the Venus heads, the other a Venus arm.  His nose is a breast.  His chin is her stomach.  His shirt and tie are her yellow skirt.

And, finally, this is Dali's "Geopoliticus Child Watching Birth of the New Man."  This was very personal for him.

Of course I would call it "I'm Outta Here!."

 

Serving the Homeless

If you read this blog regularly - and I'm thrilled and grateful to those of you who do - you know that, from time to time, Dave and I serve meals at Daily Bread.  I've been doing it for about 30 years.

Last Thursday we went to downtown Orlando to The Christian Service Center, where Daily Bread is located, where we, along with five of our friends and another lady who drives 40 miles round trip every week to do this, served up 400 meals in one hour flat!

It's such a pleasure.  And an honor.

Since Daily Bread's been doing this so long they've got it down to a science.  First the families with children, and physically challenged folks are ushered in.  They're served at their tables.  I saw one young woman with a baby in a stroller.  It wasn't until I got up close to her that I could see that she also had a new born strapped to her chest.

After these folks are served the doors are opened and people come in single file.  We work as fast as we possibly can because the doors open at 11:30 - and they close at 12:30!

What do these folks look like?  They look like the rest of us.  How do they act?  They act like the rest of us. Once in a while somebody tries to grab a little extra food - but don't we all?

Another component of The Christian Service Center of Orlando is a ministry called Fresh Start, a live-in program that provides training for men. Several years ago my son agreed to provide dinner for these guys, once a month, for a year.  Sometimes he couldn't (or didn't have time to) get volunteers and so he, his wife and I got it together at the last minute.  But that was fun and rewarding as well.

Following is a testimony of one of the regular guests at Daily Bread.   I got it from their Website.  I used to see this guy but haven't in a while.  Hope he's doing well.

Henry comes to Daily Bread when he is not working at his two regular jobs, one at a local warehouse and the other in landscaping. “The soup here is the best, especially the seafood. They always make an announcement when we are having seafood, because there are those who allergic to shellfish, but I’m not, I love it.” Henry, a proud Orlando native, went to Colonial High School, but dropped out when his parents got divorced. “School was never for me. I did finally get my GED, but I mostly do labor type jobs. I don’t make a lot of money, so I come eat here whenever I can. Donations are well appreciated and go to good meals.”

Henry is a former resident of our men’s Fresh Start. “I enjoyed my time at Fresh Start. I enjoyed the camaraderie and Bible studies. I stayed 4 months and was able to save enough money to get my own place. That time was a blessing, and I still come back to visit. The Christian Service Center is a good organization that does a lot of good for the homeless and the poor.”

I couldn't agree more.

***

How Would You Like to be Remembered?

This morning's paper ran an article by Tribune critic, Mary McNamara,  titled "Why are there so many wacky grannies on TV?"

Unlike Granny on "The Beverly Hillbillies," these gals are edgy hard drinkers who enjoy dropping the F-bomb and insulting minority groups.  Some of the fine actors playing them are Ellen Bustyn, Ellen Barken, Lily Tomlin, Elizabeth Perkins and Cloris Leachman.

McNamara says:

Barkin's Jane (in "The New Normal") is perhaps the worst, as a perfectly coiffed, pencil-skirted real estate agent whose real purpose in life appears to be giving voice to the hateful prejudice that still clings, like cankers, in the depths of the American soul.  "I feel like I ate a black and gay stew for dinner, and this is a nightmare, she says at one point."

OK, just so you know, I'm a granny but these characters are not representing me. I have no interest in dropping the F-bomb or being outrageous in a hurtful way.

By coincidence this morning I also read a portion of my Joan Chittister book on "Legacy."  Not money, but how the life of a person, now deceased, has enriched us.

The common denominator of all deaths...is the immaterial legacy, the true enrichment each of us has gained by having our lives touched by those who have gone before us. 

• I'm concerned about leaving behind my true attitude toward people - all people - and how I treated them. 
• I'm concerned about leaving behind my true value system. Especially when it comes to matters of life and death, purpose and meaning, spirituality and love. 

As far as I know, most of my granny friends feel pretty much the same way.  What would you like your legacy to be?

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